How to speak Dragonese (10 page)

What kind of a Chief am I?
he thought to himself wretchedly.
Grimbeard the Ghastly would never have hesitated like this! Grimbeard the Ghastly would know it was the Bog-Burglars' fault yet again. He'd have been over there bashing those Bog-Burglars all the way to Valhalla by now...

But then he caught sight of the Roman helmet, and doubts started to creep in.

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Could it possibly be that Hiccup was right and the Romans had found their way into the Inner Isles and were trying to make trouble?

Sighing, he picked up the piece of paper sitting on the table in front of him. On it he had written:

Plan A: Sale to the land of the Bog-Burglars and starte bashing everybody.

He picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink and wrote:

Plan B: Send a War Partty to look for A Romman Forte.

But which was the right thing to do? Being a Chief was a lonely business.

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14. CAMICAZI'S ESCAPE PLANS

For the next week Hiccup sat by the barred window looking out for his father's War Party.

Toothless came and sat on Hiccup's head. This was a familiar ritual to both of them, as it was Toothless's usual seat when Hiccup was dragon watching at the Wild Dragon Cliffs. Hiccup would draw and write in his Dragonese book, while Toothless perched on his head, one eye shut, the other half open, watching out for careless rabbits or small mice that he could catch. They could sit there for hours in happy, companionable silence.

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Now they sat looking out the window, searching, searching, for the boats that were not there.

They were being held in a barred tower room high in the air. The one good thing about being held prisoner was that they didn't have to go outside.

[Image: A man.]

Because outside it was raining. Not your ordinary, average kind of spitty little rain, but rain such as you only really get in the Barbaric Archipelago, one

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of the wettest places on this good green earth. For the whole week it rained as if the sky above was one big endless bucket of water, pouring down without stopping on the poor souls beneath.

The Romans are excellent travelers, but they are not used to this kind of weather. Nobody is. Hiccup watched with interest from his tower window high above as the soldiers' training grounds turned into one big puddly mess of black mud. The Consul's heated swimming baths overflowed into the horses' exercise yards. The kitchens were knee-deep in water. Even the Tower itself seemed to sink a few centimeters as its foundations softened and oozed.

[Image: Curtains.]

The one good thing about the rain was that it silenced the screeching dragons being held prisoner in the giant cages down below. Dragons tend to sleep

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through rain. Their skin is waterproof, so they put up their wings like umbrellas, and sleep underneath them.

Inside the Tower room, although it was bare, it was at least dry. The young Vikings were allowed to keep their swords and shields to practice for their appearance in the arena on Saturn's day Saturday.

A soldier brought them food every day. There was lots of it, although it was all a bit too rich for Hiccup's liking. Pig stuffed with dormice stuffed with baby frogs carbonara and oysters fried in cream is a bit of an acquired taste. They all refused to eat it when it was fried dragon pie or Common-or-Gardens in batter.

Toothless hardly ate at all. Hiccup tried to persuade him, but Toothless put his nose up.

"Roman f-f-food YUCKY," he said. "Too much g-g-garlic. Want some good f-f-fish. Want mackerel."

Camicazi carried on with her escape plans. They were all completely crazy.

For the first one she persuaded Hiccup and Fishlegs to help her knit their waistcoats into two ropes and she attached one end of a rope to a fish head and the other to one of the bars in the window. She then spent three nights in a row throwing the fish head out the window, hoping for a passing dragon to catch it.

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Finally her patience was rewarded when it was snapped up by a hungry Gronckle who flew off with it, the rope pulling out the bar in the window before it snapped. Camicazi squirmed out the window and down the rope, which dangled twenty meters above the ground. She held on for as long as she could, but eventually had to let go, and landed on a fat soldier playing dice under an umbrella with a dozen fellow soldiers below.

They were then moved to another, supposedly more secure, cell on the ground floor.

[Image: A girl.]

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Camicazi wasn't about to give up with this little setback, though. She spent four days tunneling her way out of their new prison with Hiccup's helmet. Unfortunately the tunnel came out right slap bang in the middle of the Consul's bathroom. A naked Fat Consul screeched for reinforcements and they were moved back to the Tower room again, where the window had been repaired.

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Her third plan was the craziest of all.

She ambushed the soldier who brought them their food every day, knocking him out with his own food tray.

She was planning to wear his clothes to pass herself off as a soldier.

[Image: Men.]

"It'll never work," said Hiccup. "You'll get caught. You're a girl for starters. And you're only four

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feet high. There are no four-foot-high soldiers. They don't let them in the army."

"Oh, you're always bringing up PROBLEMS," grumbled Camicazi, putting on the soldier's helmet, which was so big she could hardly see out of it.

"And let's face it, they're going to be really cross you knocked out one of their men," Hiccup pointed out, looking at the soldier slumbering peacefully in his Roman underwear on the floor.

"Why don't YOU face it?" snapped Camicazi. "Look at you, staring out the window all day long. Your father is NEVER GOING TO COME ..."

Hiccup flinched.

"He'll come," he said defiantly.

Camicazi had to turn up the sleeves of the soldier's shirt four times. The tunic trailed some way along the ground behind her. She looked like a very small military person in a wedding dress.

"Ze great CAMICAZI will be back home, guys, while
you
are facing those gladiators on Saturn's day Saturday ..."

She took three steps and fell flat on her face.

The boys tried very hard not to laugh.

With great dignity Camicazi got back onto her

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feet again. She picked up the front of the tunic like she really was a bride. "You can't keep a Bog-Burglar under lock and key," she said, taking the keys from the tunic pocket and unlocking the cell door. With a final bustle of skirts she was gone.

Hiccup looked out the window again.

[Image: Hiccup.]

"He'll come ..." said Hiccup. The rain was being blown through the window at such a rate that he had been driven from his usual post. But now he peered through the bars, seeking, seeking, for the sails that were not there. There was only rain and more rain, pouring down relentlessly on the ocean, drumming on the rocks, sogging up the heather, and filling the

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pockets of the poor sentries as they stood, sandals full of mud, dreaming of Roman sunshine.

The wind shrieked across the ocean, up over the grim black cliffs, and through the Roman courtyards of the fort. And as it came through Hiccup's barred window, blowing in great drenching streams of water, it seemed to be answering...

"... but he's late ..."

Camicazi didn't return that night. Hiccup and Fishlegs wondered with amazement if she really
had
escaped this time. But the soldier who brought their food that evening

very grumpily told them she had been caught within two seconds of leaving the Tower and put into solitary confinement for three days.

"And serve her right, the little barbarian," said the soldier, rubbing the lump on his head.

"Three days!" said Fishlegs excitedly. "At least we'll have some peace and quiet around here."

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"
...dreaming of Roman Sunshine..."

"Camicazi's all right, really," said Hiccup.

"Mmmm," said Fishlegs, unconvinced. "But she's very pleased with herself and she never stops talking. I'm looking forward to a nice, quiet night."

[Image: Men and a woman.]

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15. THE COMING OF THE SHARKWORMS

As the long night wore on, something strange and frightening was happening in the seas around Fort Sinister.

The rain poured down without stopping, and for several days the heated swimming baths of the Fat Consul had been overflowing, sending a stream of hot water pouring down the hillside and into the ocean. And this warm current was attracting some unwelcome visitors... SHARKWORMS.

From far and wide the Sharkworms came. Terrible creatures half out of nightmares, but only too true, I'm afraid, propelled not only by the tremendous force of a shark-like tail, but also by thick, muscly alligator legs that poured through the water, sending them forward at extraordinary speeds.

They were swimming toward the Roman Fortress, not just in ones and twos but in tens of thousands, and when the sun came up on the morning before Saturn's day Saturday there was a boiling mass

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of black fins with jagged edges, circling like vultures around the island of Fort Sinister.

It was as if they were waiting for something. Sharkworms are ancient animals, and their brains were formed in who knows what dark and terrible furnace. They knew not
why
they waited, only that they smelled warm water, and blood-yet-to-be-spilled, and guts-in-the-offing, and trouble-about-to-happen.

And so they waited, patiently and greedily, waiting and waiting and waiting for some awful event to unfold in the future that would bring them their supper.

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16. THE CUNNING BUT DESPERATE PLAN

Camicazi returned the day before Saturn's day Saturday.

She was not as cheerful as usual. She drooped around the cell, sighing. Even Fishlegs was worried. Camicazi came and sat next to Hiccup beside the barred window.

"Maybe," she said sadly, "maybe you
can
keep a Bog-Burglar under lock and key. I don't understand it. I'm the MASTER ESCAPER -- no prison can hold me ..."

"The Romans make good prisons," replied Hiccup.

"The only
good
Roman is a
dead
Roman," said Camicazi.

Hiccup sighed. "That isn't true. I'm sure there are
loads
of good Romans. But all the good Romans are probably quietly minding their own business back in Rome. Anyway, Alvin isn't a Roman, he's a Viking just like us."

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"Your father really ISN'T going to send a War Party, you know, Hiccup," said Camicazi gently.

Hiccup looked out the window. Camicazi was right. HIS FATHER WASN'T COMING. Maybe he thought that Hiccup wasn't worth it...

"OK," said Hiccup, trying to keep them from despairing. "I think it's time we made another plan."

"I know what we do!" cried Camicazi, drawing her sword with her old swagger back again. "We practice our sword-fighting! We die,
yes
-- but we die in STYLE!"

"No," said Hiccup.

"But you're a great sword-fighter -- for a
boy,
of course ..." said Camicazi, disappointed.

"I only sword-fight when there's a point to it," said Hiccup. "No,
this
is the plan. I have this dragon called Ziggerastica who owes me a favor ..."

"OOOooh, Ziggerastica -- he sounds scary," said Camicazi. "Do you think he can help us?"

"I don't know," Hiccup admitted.

Hiccup felt a bit silly shouting to someone who wasn't in the room, but he did so nonetheless, calling "ZIGGERASTICA!" three times at the top of his voice.

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"How is this dragon going to get IN here, when
we
can't get OUT?" asked Camicazi. "You'll see," said Hiccup. Nothing happened for about three hours. Hiccup wasn't really expecting this plan to work, in his heart of hearts -- he was just trying to cheer Camicazi up. But then there was a faint rustling noise, and the tiny black and red dragon squeezed through the double bars and fluttered around the room.

"Don't tell me," said Camicazi,
"Please
don't tell me that THIS is the dragon who owes you the favor ..."

"Yup," said Hiccup in astonishment. "That's definitely him.